


Pain

by AkaTsubaki



Category: Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Mo Dao Zu Shi, modao zushi, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Burial Mounds, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Cloud Recesses (Módào Zǔshī), Gay, Injury, Love, M/M, Major Character Injury, One Shot, Side Story, Tragedy, True Love, Vulnerability, Yearning, fucking depressing, gay-yearning, super gay yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22299337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkaTsubaki/pseuds/AkaTsubaki
Summary: The aftermath of the siege at Burial Hill, it's LWJ sad time :,(
Relationships: Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan/Wei Ying, WWX/LWJ
Comments: 9
Kudos: 61





	Pain

Pain

The burning itching kind, burrows in your bones and crawling, digging, through your veins.

Pain.

The helplessness of physical limits. When you know all too well, everything is for naught.

Pain

The bird has left the nest of your heart, too early because the chicks wings never flew. The kind that sticks in your throat like a lump of glue. 

Lan Wangji lay deep in the mountains of Gusu, imprisoned, with heavy lids , and a heavy heart. Only staring at a ceiling. Alone, with the smell of sandalwood and medicinal ointment lingering. It was dark in Gusu, except no matter how clear the sky above the mountain was, not a single star show itself. The moonless heavens felt lonely.

Long had Lan Wangji trained to learn to bear physical pain, even if he was at his ropes end. But never was he taught about the pain of heartache. He thought, he had finally begun to understand his father. The discipline whip scars were not as deep as the ones in his soul.

A small scrape of wood at the door alerted a guest. Since they did not knock, it was definitely Lan Xichen. His steps were hesitant slightly, almost as if he was visiting against his will. His silhouette pausing slightly at the screen divider, he looked at his bedridden brother. Even if he did not want to admit it, it was a tinge of pity he felt for Lan Wangji. 

“Brother…” 

“Wangji…..” with a deep sigh, sect leader Zewu-Jun sat on the edge of the bed. 

His back to his recovering brother, Lan Xichen grabbed the hand that rest on beside him, staring off in the distance. With an unconscious strength he squeezed it, like a mother with her child. 

The elder brother was uncharacteristically still, an aura of ice around his heart. The room felt a bit stuffy. He took in a few shallow breaths speaking. 

The next words cut steel in half.

But it was only like lips moved and no sound came out from the person speaking.

“The Yiling Patriarch is dead. He was killed at the siege tonight. His powers backfired.” 

The hand he let go of had stayed still. Without a glance back, his white sleeves flitted off to leave. However, on second thoughts he stopped himself. His hand rested at the doorway.

“Wangji...I…” Only a deep breath in finished the lost sentence. 

As he stepped into the night, he heard a hitched sob.

Pain

If all the wind could be knocked out of you, no way to breathe in. Your very lungs ripped out from the ribs that protected them. The heartbeat of a pounding drum. And soulless tears that grew cold by the time they had rolled down past your ears and to your neck where they made themselves known.

Lan Wangji sat up and collapsed over with no strength. Frantically gripping at his blanket, as if trying to reach out for something he lost. His ears felt as if they had cotton shoved deep in them, not being able to hear if he was screaming or not. If all of his wounds on his back had opened, he had not noticed. 

***

“H H Hanguan-jun?!” Multiple disciples Who had woken a bit early to do sect duties saw a half clothed figure barely walk, before realizing it was the always-so-refined Lan Wangji. One had never seen him so disheveled, his under robe showing with only an outer robe draped around weak shoulders and hair drenched in a feverish cold sweat. Supporting himself with Bichen he desperately made his way to the stairs out of Cloud Recesses. 

The guqin on his back rubbed his wounds, the friction causing a few deeper ones to bleed onto the snowy white fabric. His forehead ribbon was lightly wrapped around his hand, the whip scars wrapped around his arms causing him to not be able to reach up far enough to tie such a thing.

Along the way a few sect members attempted to stop him, though only with words. Regardless of his condition no one had the authority to restrain him other than the sect leader and a few elders. 

Wei Ying…had to leave behind something, some scrap of a soul. He’d find it no matter what. He’d rip it from the earth with bloody nails if he had to.

Lan xichen had not slept at all, Returning from battle he could not settle down. He gazed at his mother's gentians, stroking the velvet petals. In his mind and soul he was apologizing to Madame Lan, for being involved in the siege against his only brothers love. Suddenly he heard sprinting, someone yelled

“Zewu Jun!” a young Gusu cultivator red faced bowed hurriedly before gasping again.

“It’s, It’s Hanguan-jun he-he-” out of breath pointing to where the main entrance was. 

Lan Xichen didn’t even bother to ask when he quickly boarded Shuoyue and flew. It wasn’t long before he heard concerned pleads.

“Please Hanguan-jun! You need to rest, you cannot leave!” 

“Has anyone gotten Sect Leader yet?!”

fifteen or so young men and a few young women who must have heard the commotion from their chores and duties as well tried to surround Lan Wangji. Lan Xichen almost barrel jumped off his sword and with his robes gathered in one hand broke a sect rule to run to his brother. Everyone gave sighs of short lives relief when they saw him.

“Wangji! What are you doing outside of-” As he went to reach out to his brother, Lan Wangji’s head whipped around. Bloodshot whites of eyes surrounded a deep abyss. As Lan Xichen was about to ask what in the world he was doing, a snow white hand recklessly struck the middle of his chest. With as much spiritual energy as he could try and muster, Lan Wangji attempted to send his brother flying yards away. However, it was only a few feet that the receiver of the blow managed to stagger back. 

“DON’T” He seethed, coal embers lingering in his tone.

Not a single person dared to even gasp, all biting their tongues quite literally. None of the disciples had any idea what had happened prior to this, they only saw something so astonishing it felt criminal. The attack made a bit of blood drip from Lan Wangji’s mouth, he did not even have the strength to wipe it away from his ashen lips. 

As he turned away again to walk to the gate he was almost at, Lan Xichen was on one knee from the blow, dejected. The pain he saw in his brothers eyes was something he wasn't prepared for. Looking at his bloody robes he called out softly.

“Please…” His voice cracking slightly.

Lan Xichen knew there was nothing he could do at all. This was the limit of love sometimes. To watch the people closest to you suffer. A young female disciple, who seemed to be a Gusu medic, couldn’t hold back anymore. She bravely walked over to where Lan Wangji was leaning at the gate. She fished something out of her sleeve and with a deep salute and quite shaky hands, offered a small medicinal pouch to him. Not only was she overstepping bounds by interacting a male cultivator, Hanguan-jun at that, but also risking being thrown back by a shove as well.

But with no ill intent at all, she felt her hands lighten. Looking up into foggy glass eyes, Lan Wangji gave a soft nod.

And left Gusu.

***

In the three days it slowly took Lan Wangji to make it to Yiling, he managed to barely sleep under a couple of trees only when he could bear the pain no longer. The small pouch of medicinal herbs gifted to him came in use for the wounds that had improperly healed. Most of the journey, balancing on Bichen was out of the question. Only hopping on when rivers and pathless mountains obstructed the way. Slipping in and out of conscious actions, he had made it to burial mound. Its peaks stabbing the grey sky. The air smelled of burning flesh and the soot covering the entire mountain stuck to skin.

Trudging up the hill, an eerie feeling of emptiness snuck beneath Lan Wangji’s spine. The few wooden houses that had previously stood were nothing but smoldering coals. 

Silence.

Silence all around. Not even the few barren trees creaked in the slight wind. Using Bichen like a walking stick, he swept the area with his eyes. Passing spots of blood soaked soil and old talismans from the battle only a few days ago. He eventually reached the wide opening of the Demon Slaughtering Cave. his shuffling footsteps echoed in the darkness. His destination had been reached. He collapsed. Of course, Wei Ying would not be here. Not even the light sweet-grass smell of his hair. The cinnamon like taste of his soft lips. The syrup brown eyes lightly piercing his soul. Grovelling on the ground of the cave Lan Wangji grabbed at his hair, fingernails digging into his scalp. No one was around to hear his desperate sobs. After quite a while he recovered slightly. Gagging on his own hitched breaths, he took  _ Wangji _ from his scabbed back. With a few forceful deep breaths to steady himself he knelt properly. 

Any Guquin had probably never seen Burial Mound, but the instrument was fit for the area. Her notes drifted, refusing to be absorbed by the mountain they only echoed throughout. The soft sound of Inquiry swept across the battle tainted mountain like ripples in a lake, fog lined clouds, through the wild wheat fields that made home at the base. The first time, Not a single soul answered his plea. Wherever Wei Yings soul scraps hid, Lan Wangji wasn’t playing loud enough for them to hear. 

The second song, no answer.

The third song, no answer.

Lan Wangji thought back to a time when Wei Ying had invited him to Yunmeng. Always a little upset he had refused him so many times. He hated himself in that moment. He wished he could go back to when he was fifteen or so, and respond with an absolute yes. He thought about lotus pod seeds, the saccharine melancholy they left on his tongue every time after he had met Wei Ying. He remembered, a few years ago, to when Wei Wuxian had finally appeared after months of searching. The uncomfortable way in which he held himself, almost as if he had broken his legs not so long ago, for Lan Wangji knew the same pain. The herb peony he had snatched from his chest on phoenix mountain. He should have ripped that blindfold off. 

As he played, he wished for a flute to accompany him. 

The hundredth song, no answer.

The blood soaked strings of the Guquin had been stretched over their pegs and plucked for days. Lan Wangji finally rest his hand on the strings to stop Inquiry. He clutched his palms close to his chest, trying to subdue the tremors of pain in his fingers. Kneeling there for quite awhile. Where would he have gone? Yunmeng? Lotus Pier?...Gusu?

Mother, Father, Wei Ying. He reached out in his mind to the heavens. Praying for what? Even he did not know. 

Suddenly, as if his mind was numbed three whole days and nights, he felt an almost whisper of a presence. Barely able to support his own weight he lifted  _ Wangji  _ onto his back, wincing a bit. Dragging him and Bichen he went to find the source. Down the mountain a bit he found a barren burning tree. Suddenly, a little raspy breath was heard. 

Lan Wangji quickly looked up to the branches and walked around the perimeter of the base. There, in a hole where the trunk had once stood was A-Yuan.

He recognized the child immediately. However his round cheeks were flushed and drenched in cold sweat. Propping Bichen against the tree, he gingerly took both his weak arms and took the child with bloodied hands not sparing a second thought. Burning, A-Yuan had a fever. His eyes closed, and small little lungs shallowly gasping for life. He curled into the arms of his rescuer. His clothes were filthy, but then again so was Lan Wangji. He had been tossing in dirt for a few days without care of his appearance. Quickly he sat down, although mostly falling. Laying the child down on his lap he pat around his lapels and sleeves for the small pouch gifted to him before he left Cloud Recesses. Reminding himself to personally thank the maiden who gave it to him, he found a few fever reducing herbs left, and fished them out. 

Applying the crude paste made in his palms, he spread a bit on the child's forehead before opening his mouth and putting the rest inside.

“I’m sorry” He said softly as A-yuan reflectively tried to spit the bitterness from his tongue. He tilted his head back to make sure he properly swallowed it. He then looked as his clenched hands noticing one of them was covered in burn blisters, most likely from digging through the coals of the tree to hide. Making another paste with the very last scraps of herbs he had, he used the forehead ribbon that was wrapped around his wrist as a poultice for the tiny hand. Gently he stroked the small boys hair. 

***

Lan Wangji had wrapped the shivering A-Yuan in his outer robe. Sticking the sheath in his sash, he clutched the child with as much strength as one could muster and got on the blade of Bichen. Praying his spiritual powers had maybe recovered enough to make it quickly back to Gusu. As he left behind Burial Mounds not finding a sliver of his love, Not a corpse to hold, not a soul to to greet. he had no more tears to shed. 

In half a day they landed in Caiyi town. Despite his jade like face, townspeople gaped and murmured among themselves at the ragged appearance. Lan Wangji did not care, he knew he looked quite awful. Sheathing Bichen he hurried into the nearest shop. The counter person was quite startled to see a bloodied dirty man with a child clinging to him. 

“H h h hello young master-” Lan Wangji nodded and set two coins on the table asking if he could fill a gourd with water from the shop.

“Sir you do not need to pay in fact there is a public well just outside, you passed it on your way in…” The shopkeep looked concerned at the man in front of him.

Suddenly Lan Wangji smelled something familiar. Turning his head he saw that on the shelves behind the worker were clay jars with red tops emitting a strong yet mellow fragrance.

Emperors Smile. 

“Then I’ll take a jar of wine instead.” 

“Yes of course kind sir.” 

Taking the forbidden jar he quickly turned heel and found the well that was mentioned. first letting A-Yuan drink, tipping his head back again. And then taking a mouthful himself, they both mounted Bichen again. And flew into the low mountain fog.

Soon, The fog broke and Cloud Recesses burst through, clear and cool as always. The scent of magnolia caught ones nose here and there. 

***

Lan Xichen was looking out his window solemnly, thinking about the past few days in seclusion. Suddenly he thought his eyes had played a trick on him when a weak sword glare glinted in the sky.

He hurriedly left his room, grabbing his blade he mounted it quite quickly and flew in the direction of the entry gate. 

Lan Wangji had made it back home, but only barely. Collapsed on his knees, old blood soaking his back and carefully holding something wrapped in his robe. By the time Lan Xichen had landed a few people were already dashing down the stairs to help behind him. 

“Wangji!” calling out to him, he ran past the gate to where he was kneeling. One would think the young man had died at the state of him. Crouching to his level Lan Xichen went to grab his shoulder but instead, Lan Wangji’s head fell into his brothers chest out of pure exhaustion.

“A-Yuan…” He rasped, taking one hand to push away the robe covering the child’s face. Lan Xichen noticed his broken fingernails and fingertips.

Lan Xichen placed a hand gently on his brothers back passing on spiritual energy, not feeling any left in Lan Wangji. He could only guess what happened when he heard a booming voice behind him.

“Lan Xichen!! What in the world is this I hear Lan Wangji is back so why have you not restrained him! He-” Lan Qiren’s words huffed and puffed walking down the stairs. He stopped mid sentence when he saw his youngest nephew so helpless. 

“Uncle! Please don’t. Get a medic for this child before anything else!” He responded quite firmly. A young voice came from behind while Lan Qiren was left with a headache at the thought of a child.

“Sect Leader! I can take him!” A young man dressed in all white came running down the stairs with more disciples behind him after hearing all the commotion. 

As A-Yuan was taken to the medicine hall, Lan Wangji, in a moment of true rarity, put his arms around his brother. Lan Xichen rested his chin on his messy hair, saying nothing but accepting that the front of his robes would be stained with saltwater for a bit. 

***

Lan Wangji dreamt.

Once, when Wei Ying had first come to study at cloud Recesses, He had drawn him a picture sitting in the library pavillion. No one had ever done such a sentimental thing, regardless of the intent the fifteen year old Wei Ying had. If only he had it now. Maybe he would have kept it safe, prevented the bamboo paper from yellowing with age. Tucked away in his favorite book. What had gone wrong? Lan Wangji was known as a powerful cultivator yet he could not even stop the person he cared most for from straying down a path of sure destruction. He begged to be able to hear the clear notes of Chenqing again, back in Phoenix mountain, with the dew catching the hem of his robes. When telling his brother a few years ago that he wished to bring someone back to Cloud Recesses, he should have snatched Wei Ying up and ran away.

He wished for him to lay down on his bed, as Lan Wangji played the song written specially for him. He would play precisely, not missing a single note or pause, and with every pluck of a string he’d pour out his whole heart. Just for Wei Ying. 

And not for anyone else. 

**Author's Note:**

> I gaze down at the lake as I try to climb this mountain  
> And the mountain seems as high as the lake is wide.  
> I miss you in a night that never ends.  
> I think of you through every day I live.
> 
> So fragrant these blossoms on the mountain trees  
> And the fields of wildflowers go on and on.  
> After we parted, I was overwhelmed.  
> So now I persuade myself that soon we'll meet again.  
> ~Li Ye, a poem oh so perfect for our LWJ. I love the blatant 'I think of you through every day i live" Alone it feels quite unpoetic, but within that, the straightforwardness is quite sentimental. 
> 
> I want to also say, while it's hard for me to imagine LWJ as anything but a straightfaced never-showing-emotion-ever person, I wanted to indulge in the fact that well, he is human. I don't think this is breaking his character at all even if im worried it seems like it! In chapter 99 when LXC tell WWX "...He even dragged such a body [to burial mound]" i could only envision a extremely unstable LWJ.
> 
> This was a very easy emotion to express for me, writing it was almost as it flowed out of my hands onto my keyboard. I too have been woken in the night to be told a loved one had passed. The absolutely piercing pain i tried to display even though i feel very limited with prose. 
> 
> I'd also love to give mention to some amazing fanart that read my mind when i was first planning this story  
> https://wheniseelevimyheartgoesdokidoki.tumblr.com/post/182255301089/nothing-reconciles-me-i-am-alive-in-your  
> Seriously helped me vision the events
> 
> Thank you for reading this holy hannah would you believe me if i said most of this was written in one night? ahahah. This for sure isn't the longest thing anyone has read but my ADHD makes me feel like it is. (7 pages of 12 point font...)


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